


And Then There Is You

by vianne78



Series: Nate [7]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Blow Jobs, But kinda does too, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Finally, Fluff and Smut, Friends trying to help, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, It doesn’t go well, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Swearing, This Will Be It, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vianne78/pseuds/vianne78
Summary: They all agreed this had to stop.Something needed to be done about the slowly growing tension between their two soldiers. It was driving everyone up the wall.





	1. Damnit, Dogmeat!

**Author's Note:**

> They will finally end up where they've been going all this time, but fair warning. It'll take a couple of chapters. Or a few.

***

 

“They look so good, don’t they,” Piper sighed wistfully.

Curie didn’t have to look to know who the reporter was referring to, but she looked anyway because Piper was right. The vault dweller and the former paladin looked very good separately, but together like that? They were enough to turn anyone’s head.

The two fine male specimens were currently working on one of the power armors, fixing the plates that had taken damage on their most recent run-in with some super mutants.

It was too hot to be doing anything, really. Had been for the better part of the week. Most settlers were lazing about by the river, or in the buildings that had working ceiling fans. There was next to no wind, and scorching air was rising in visible waves from the pavement.

Aside from Preston doing his usual rounds (he was much too responsible for his own good), the only one working seemed to be Codsworth, who was busy looking after everybody, delivering water and other beverages all around Sanctuary. And, of course, there were Nate and Danse.

“Gotta be grateful for the heat,” Cait grinned from the hammock. She had an excellent vantage point with uninterrupted view to the carport, and she had been using it, unashamed, for the past hour.

Piper agreed, emptying the Nuka Cola she’d been nursing for some time.

Fixing power armors was not mere tinkering - it was very physical, involving plenty of yanking, twisting, pounding and thrusting. Some of the poses were... interesting, others downright delightful. Anyone watching was guaranteed fascinating entertainment, and likely an uncomfortable throb.

The sleeveless t-shirts the two soldiers were wearing had probably been white once, but grease and age had long ago covered the original color. The cloth was also darkened by sweat, clinging to their skin, bringing out their impressive muscles rather than covering anything.

Nate paused to lift the hem of his top and proceeded to wipe his face with it, revealing his ripped, sweaty stomach - making all three women sigh and Danse drop his wrench.  
Cait snickered, but the snicker turned into an oh, when both men went to pick it up, making their worn jeans strain just so.

“What is it that makes them so pleasing to the eye? I could watch them forever, even when they do nothing.” Curie sounded vaguely surprised by her own thoughts.

  
“When you figure that out, let me know. Or you could, you know, stop the analyzing and just enjoy the view,” Piper suggested, tilting her head to see better, but Curie continued, couldn’t help it.

  
“It must ‘ave something to do with there being _two_. It is rare to see even _one_ so tall, broad-shouldered, muscular... And their behinds are so round and -” Curie’s voice trailed off and she forgot what she was saying.

Danse had lifted a plate to the frame to see if it was straightened enough to fit back, and Nate was reaching over his arms to try and wrench it in place.  
Their audience witnessed the paladin turn his head, his gaze lingering on the vault dweller as he worked the plate.  
And then Nate stopped, turned his head from the armor and looked right back at Danse. They were very close, almost nose to nose, and the air was again heavy with tension. This had been going on for way too long now - surely someone would soon snap.  
Piper, Cait and Curie were all holding their breaths.

Dogmeat barked somewhere nearby. Both soldiers snapped out of it, looking in the direction of the commotion, and the moment was over.  
Piper groaned, Cait cursed, and Curie focused on breathing again.

The two men continued to work on the armor, but now they were deliberately casual.  
Still a sight for sore eyes, to be sure, but that intense atmosphere had been ruined.

“Goddamn dog will get no biscuits from me this month,” Cait swore under her breath.

  
Even Curie seemed unusually exasperated. “I... I _really_ wanted them to finally do something. Aren’t you so very frustrated?”

  
“Why do you think the goddamn dog will get no biscuits from me?”

  
“Ah. Then it will receive no treats from me, either.”

  
The trio continued their day keeping an eye on the view, just in case, lazily downing Nuka Colas.

 

***

 

“Ladies,” Preston said, tipping his hat as he strolled by. Stunned silence followed him.  
Even he had given in to the heat and ditched his duster, wearing only a black tank top with jeans. The way he was holding his weapon brought out the nice curve of his back.  
Very nice curve of a very nice back.

Cait barked out a laugh.  
“Oh my god, Garvey. You were hiding _that_ under the duster the whole time? That’s gotta be criminal!”

Preston threw a surprisingly sly grin over his shoulder and continued his round.

“Did you see that? Tell me you saw that. I swear to god that man is not who I thought he is,” Piper managed, and all three followed said man with their eyes.

If it had been anyone else, they could have sworn he even chose his path in order to stay in their line of vision for as long as possible, but this was Preston Garvey, the most decent guy in the universe. Surely that could not be.

“This heat is seriously messing with your heads,” Deacon drawled from behind the women, profoundly entertained. He’d been lounging under the big tree behind them the whole time, witnessing everything (and he was secure enough to freely admit he’d been having similar reactions to the two armor-fixing beefcakes earlier).

“Oh shut up, Deacon. You just wish you’d…” Cait whipped her head to glare at him and lost it completely. “For fuck’s sake, you too? Is there anyone who’s not secretly hunky around here?”

Deacon grinned openly, posing a little more just for the hell of it. He was wearing only faded shorts made from a pair of old jeans, his shirt currently serving as a pillow.  
“I aim to please, Red. You know that.”

“Oh shut up,” Cait repeated halfheartedly, grinning despite herself.

 

***

 

They all agreed this had to stop.  
There had been this slowly growing tension between their two soldiers for _ages_ now, and _something_ needed to be done about it. It was driving everyone up the wall.

Danse and Nate were close friends and nearly constant companions, had been for a good while, and mostly they were seen just working harmoniously together - but then suddenly, out of nowhere, the air became heavy with crackling, snapping electricity, and not only them but everyone around them vibrated with the force.

It manifested in the strangest situations, and was always, always over before anything happened. After the latest sour disappointment - caused just now by their favorite four-legged friend by barking at the worst possible moment - they were beginning to be desperate. Obviously the two weren’t getting anywhere without help. The sleepy touches and cuddles hardly counted, when they acted as if nothing had happened when they were awake.

 

***

 

“Spin the bottle?” Cait suggested with a lewd smirk, making Piper snicker and Curie frown.

“I don’t see ‘ow spinning some bottles would ‘elp. What if we just talk to them?”

“Talk to them, my ass. What if we throttle them both?” Cait muttered. “Or throw them in a lock-up together for a few days and lose the key, something’s bound to happen…”

“Or, uh... do you think we could whip up like a surprise barbeque for tonight? I mean, if we could get some alcohol into those two...” Piper nearly spilled her drink gesturing enthusiastically toward the carport, where the objects of their unwavering interest were still working on the armor.

“You know, I think that’s the first idea worth trying I’ve heard so far. Way to go, press,” Deacon encouraged from his spot under a big tree.

“Oh! A barbeque sounds wonderful! But why would we want to… _oh_. Alcohol. Alcohol efficiently removes inhibitions. I see.” There was now a decidedly impish glint in Curie’s eyes.

“Hoo boy, this is so _on_ ,” Cait cackled, “let me just start the preparations - CODSWORTH! You got work to do!”

 

***


	2. Backfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good intentions can pave the way to...unexpected places.

***

 

Sunset had ensured the heat was now at a tolerable level, and the barbeque had drawn the whole settlement - and quite a few people from neighboring ones, too - out to enjoy themselves. The air was still warm and sticky, but at least it was breathable. Bare feet and flimsy dresses seemed to be the theme, people were joking, even dancing.

Nate’s settlers were learning to trust - in the people around them, trust the defenses, trust in their ability to handle what the wasteland would throw at them. Happy relaxation like this seemed to happen quite frequently now, and it was the most welcome development of all.  
Nate was playing old favorites with his guitar, Codsworth was busily serving food and drinks.

Piper was shaking her dark head.  
“This is gonna be harder than I thought. I didn’t consider the guitar. He’s not even drinking his beer.”

“But Tin Can looks like he’s a little...drunk. What the hell did you make him, doc?” Cait asked, looking at Danse as he walked by almost dancing to Nate’s current tune.

Curie looked smug. “A couple of drinks, quite popular before the war. It looks like a ‘armless tall drink, but it is made of five different alcohols. Of course, I ‘ad to improvise with the ingredients, but it is still at least as potent.”

Hancock whistled from his spot nearby, clearly impressed.  
“Gotta get me some of that, doc.”

“It will be my pleasure, Mayor ‘Ancock.”

“Please, call me John.”

 

***

 

Nate had a lovely, dark voice, a large repertoire, and he could do sweet, fun, rock or heartbreak - and heartbreak he did exceptionally well.

 _“Used to be so easy to fall in love again._  
_But I found out the hard way,_  
_it's a road that leads to pain._  
_I found that love was more than just a game._  
_You're playin' to win, but you lose just the same…”_

“For heaven’s sake. Why do they request these sobstories? Are you listening to this? If this goes on much longer, I’ll spend the rest of the evening in tears,” Piper huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cait nudged her, nodding towards the riverbank.  
“I’m not listening, but Tin Can sure is. Look. Look!”

Piper looked, and there he was, leaning on a large tree, hands shoved in his pockets.  
Eyes on Nate.  
“And Blue knows he’s there.”  
Nate didn’t look at Danse directly, but a sideglance betrayed him as he began the next request, declaring it to be the last one. The rest of the entertainment would be played by the radio, or his Pip-Boy.

 _“The world was on fire and no one could save me but you_  
_It's strange what desire will make foolish people do_  
_I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you_  
_And I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you…”_

“There. He looked at Tin Can again. If that goddamn bonehead doesn’t notice those signals, I swear I’ll go and wring his neck myself,” Cait growled and downed another drink.

Right then Nate turned his head and caught Danse’s eyes, gaze holding steady, making it abundantly clear - to everyone looking - he was singing this song to one person alone. And it was written all over Danse’s face he knew it, and couldn’t look away.

Curie returned from the bar. “What is ‘appening? Did I miss something?”

“Shh, just look!”

 _“What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way_  
_What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you_  
_What a wicked thing to say you never felt this way_  
_What a wicked thing to do to make me dream of you…”_

“Danse is blushing. Isn’t ‘e blushing? It is so dark, I can’t see clearly.”  
Curie was right. His eyes had widened, he was no longer leaning on the tree but standing next to it, frozen in place - and there was a distinct flush on his cheeks.

The song ended and Nate set the guitar aside as the people around him erupted into applause and cheers. He rose to bow and thank everyone, accepting the claps on his back and the kisses on his cheeks with a grin.

Suddenly Cait cursed heavily, pointing to the empty riverbank.  
“Where the hell did that chickenshit run off to now?”

Piper groaned, throwing her hands in the air in hopeless frustration. “Alright. We can go and wring his neck right about now.”

“Need help with that?” Deacon had appeared next to them again, making Curie jump.

“Dammit! Told you not to do that,” Piper gasped, frowning at the spy.

“Am I to understand you don’t need my help, then? You already know where to look?” Deacon looked annoyingly smug.

Piper and Cait groaned, but Curie surprised them all by grabbing Deacon's arm and pressing softly against his side, fluttering her lashes.

“ _Darling_ Deacon, can you ‘elp us find ‘im? _Please_ , Deacon? Nate’s ‘appiness depends on you,” Curie begged breathily, caressing Deacon’s cheek lightly with the tips of her delicate fingers and looking exceptionally pretty in her red summer dress.

For once, Deacon seemed speechless. He swallowed and merely nodded.

 

***

 

“Wow. He _really_ got cold feet.”  
Danse’s tense silhouette could just be seen on top of the small drop by the Red Rocket truck stop, looking towards Concord. He was pacing. Clearly cursing. His impressive hair was sticking up from him running his hands through it constantly.

The Red Rocket was mostly empty, though Nate - and apparently Danse - used it if he needed room to breathe, but wanted to still be easily available.  
“We need to get Blue.”

“Already told Preston to get Nate.” Deacon said, “he did try to mutter something about danger, but I think we can trust him to deliver a simple message.”

It _was_ kind of a bad idea to venture out of the settlement like this.  
Granted, they were just around the corner, but it was dark and they were all tipsy and pretty much unarmed, and clearly this was not their brightest moment.

Cait was about to open her mouth to _agree_ with Preston, of all things, when a faint rustle warned them to quiet down.  
Only it wasn’t Nate, or even Preston. It was a feral. With friends. A lot of friends. Fuck.  
All hell broke loose.

 

***


	3. Reaching The Limit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only so much a guy can take.

***

 

Preston delivered the message alright, uncharacteristically angry.  
The old gas station was very close, but it was still outside Sanctuary’s sturdy defences, and the irresponsibility made him fume.

He jogged around for a while searching for Nate, finally finding him around the sleeping quarters. Nate turned to him with a smile, looking relaxed and unsuspecting.  
Preston got even angrier at the spy.

“Preston! I hope you’re not working tonight, the beer is as cold as the weather is hot, my friend. Listen, have you seen…”

“Danse was seen going to Red Rocket, and Deacon followed, unarmed - apparently with Piper, Cait and Curie. They meant to spy on you, I’m sure. The damn scoundrel told me to get you and was gone before I even had a chance to protest.”

Once a soldier, always ready. It pained Preston to see the easy smile turn into a worried frown, but Nate didn’t waste time, just grabbed his trusted automatic combat rifle and took off at a half run. They didn’t even make it to the edge of the settlement, before the first nerve wrecking screech of a feral carried over the bridge. And then another one.

“Why the hell doesn’t that ass ever listen,” Preston cursed under his breath and ran after Nate.

 

***

 

There were so many of them. Nate was bashing heads and blasting limbs clean off as fast as he could, but even he was in danger of being overpowered, and he wasn’t wearing any armor. His arm was bleeding profusely, but for now, it didn’t seem to slow him down.

Preston did his best to at least keep the swarming wretches off of Nate’s back while helping Curie and Piper escape from the support beams of the giant rocket. They were unharmed and swift on their feet, and given window, disappeared around the bend in a heartbeat to get help.  
But where was Cait? Deacon?  
Danse?

Hearing a furious, very human scream, Preston blasted another feral into ashes and searched for the source. There, on the side of the Red Rocket building. There was Cait. She had a tire iron, and had clearly put it to good use. She seemed to be defending something -

Preston realized there was something on the ground behind her, something sickly green and glowing, and next to it something white - a shirt? - and… oh no. No, not this.

Suddenly terrified, Preston whipped around to look at Nate. Clearly the general had already seen the same thing. He was pale and in full killing machine mode.

The swarm was down to just a few. The figure on the ground wasn't moving.

If Danse was dead, how would Nate survive?

Preston ground his teeth together and fought for his friends like a hellion, and then a wave of armed settlers came running, and the last ferals fell to the ground in pieces.

 

***

 

Gore and cadavers covered the yard.  
Settlers were already piling up the corpses and checking for any usable loot. They had done this a lot over the past years, as a team, and it showed in their methodical efficiency. Nate had taught them well.

Curie had returned with the help, she was still on her knees next to the lifeless man on the ground. Preston was gathering courage to go and see for himself what the situation was.  
Nate was not even looking in Danse’s direction.

Piper and Hancock were helping Deacon out of the building - his left foot looked nauseatingly crooked, and there was something sharp poking through his skin just above the ankle. Deacon looked vacant, almost happy. Preston strongly suspected Hancock and his stash had something to do with that, and for once, was grateful for it.

Cait was standing in the middle of it all, covered in blood, still gripping the tire iron.

“Goddamn Tin Can had to be a fucking hero, didn’t he. Deacon fell on his foot from the beams when he helped Curie and - I was trying to carry him inside when that fat, glowing monster came _straight for us_ , and that idiot... the damn idiot just ran from somewhere and - and he didn’t have a gun either so he fought it with his bare hands. A fucking glowing one! And then there were too many to… He couldn’t… I had no chance to - I’m so _angry_!”

There were tears streaming down her face, streaking the blood, and then Nate was there, wrapping his arms around her and holding tight. She struggled feebly at first but gave in, fisted her hands in his torn shirt, her frustrated scream muffled by his chest.

 

***

 

Strong had carried Deacon away, grumbling about the missed fight, and most of the settlers were returning to Sanctuary.

“Your arm needs to be looked at,” Preston said quietly as he approached Nate, and then he saw the general’s face for the first time. The look on it made him flinch.  
Granted, the vault dweller excelled in controlling his emotions, but even then he always looked... normal. Calm and collected, yes, but very human.

Now his face was just a pale mask, his eyes completely empty. It was a face of someone who had been through too much and was shutting off, and that look on Nate’s face scared Preston much more than the throng of ferals had.

“Your arm,” Preston repeated, pointing at the still oozing blood. Some feral had managed to take a nasty swipe at him, leaving deep wounds behind. The torn edges looked angry and swollen.

Nate slowly lifted his arm for Preston to check, and stood absolutely still the whole time, even when the open gashes were haphazardly cleaned and the pain must have been agonizing. Curie was still by Danse’s side, so Preston had hope. The general clearly did not.

“Preston, we need your ‘elp - and Nate, if you are not too badly ‘urt. I must get ‘im to Sanctuary, now. I only ‘ad a few stimpaks, that is not enough.” Curie’s words were urgent and commanding. Nate obediently followed Preston to Curie and Danse.

Danse’s skin was gray and he was was covered in nasty burn-like rashes, he had open wounds and painful looking boils. His breathing was difficult, shallow and wheezing, but he was alive.

Preston was almost dizzy with relief, and he swiftly bent to do as Curie was telling them, to form a sort of stretcher out of their hands for Danse.  
Nate followed suit again, but he still didn’t say anything. Still looked completely detached.

 

***

 

Curie ran ahead and was waiting at her clinic when they arrived and lowered Danse carefully on the stretcher she had prepared. Deacon was already receiving treatment from one of her nursing students in the corner.  
“Good. Now step back and take the meds I put out for you, ‘e’s still almost glowing ‘imself.”

As soon as they were out of her way, she dosed him briskly with several stimpaks and an IV. She also barked orders to cut Danse’s clothes away and to clean him up so she could get to treating the damage.

It took an obscene amount of water and antiseptics and rags before the patient and his wounds were sufficiently clean. Then the doctor kicked them out, save for Cait, whom she ordered to help her.

Outside, Preston tried one more time to talk to his friend.  
“General… Nate? I’m sure he’ll be fine, you know Curie is the best there is. I...”

But Nate didn’t answer, just walked away in his torn, bloody clothes.

Too late, Preston remembered his arm. He hadn’t used any stimpaks at the clinic.  
In fact, Preston didn’t remember him taking the radiation meds, either.  
He risked being yelled at and walked right back into the clinic to tell on him.

 

***

 

The following day, for the first time in the whole week, the persisting heat seemed to loosen its suffocating grip. At least there was a healthy breeze in the air now, making it considerably easier to breathe.

“Still nothing?” Piper sat next to Preston (still without his duster - the breeze only helped so much), and he shook his head.

“Danse?” He asked in return, and Piper almost smiled.

“As good as new, as far as I can tell. Pissed off that Curie won’t let him leave.”

“Curie can be scary. Does he know about...you know?” He gestured towards Nate’s old house, where the general had spent the day, firmly locked in, not answering to anything or anyone. Unfortunately the fixed walls had proven supermutant-proof, and even Deacon’s deft fingers hadn’t been able to pry his damn sturdy locks open.

Piper sighed. “Yeah. That’s why he’s so pissed off. That, and Curie calling him names, in several languages.”

Preston couldn’t help it, he laughed. “I think I’ll go and see this for myself. Would you..?”

Piper’s eyes were soft and worried as she squeezed Preston’s arm briefly. “Yeah. I’ll stay right here, I promise.”

Preston leaned closer to look at her, taking care only calm confidence showed on his face.  
“Hey. Things will work out. Remember how hopeless we’ve felt before, and still, somehow, we’ve always pulled through? It’ll happen this time, too.”

Piper’s smile was only a little bit wobbly, as Preston pressed a reassuring kiss on her temple and left.

 

***

 

Preston could hear them long before entering the clinic.  
Curie was using words he had never heard before. He imagined they were profanities in some european languages he probably didn’t even know existed.

He walked in just as Danse had had enough. He was raising his voice and jabbing his finger on Curie’s face.

“There is _absolutely nothing_ you can do to keep me here. He’s still injured, with no medication, and he has refused everyone else! He needs help, whether he wants it or not, and I’m going to go to him. Right now. I’m leaving.” Face flushed a livid crimson, Danse grabbed a bag full of meds from a sidetable and stomped off.

Curie didn’t do anything to stop him. On the contrary. She looked deeply satisfied watching him go.

“I take it that was your intention?” Preston asked, and Curie huffed.

“I was simply… oh, ‘ow do people say it… riling ‘im up so ‘e would finally do something, and not just run away.”

“He looked remarkably healthy.”

“But of course!”

“I’m sure the general doesn’t, however,” Preston said, a hint of disapproval in his voice now. Curie fixed a stern look at him.

“Nate is very strong and wounds like that will not kill him. Otherwise I would not ‘ave let ‘im stay locked up this long. It is ‘is ‘ead I’m more worried about! Do you _really_ think anyone but Danse could get through to ‘im?”

Preston dropped his gaze and apologized, properly chastened. Curie was right, and of course she would have noticed the quality of her friend’s injuries, physical and psychological alike. Seemed like the thought of losing Danse had been the general’s final straw, and it would be up to Danse to fix this.

The doctor turned to begin cleaning up her clinic.  
“Now let us ‘ope this finally leads to wherever it ‘as been going for the past months, and we can all start breathing freely again.”

 

***

 

Piper heard heavy footfalls, and then Danse rounded the corner.  
_About time. He needs you._  
“Hey, glad you’re -”

“Is he in there,” Danse interrupted, nudging his chin towards Nate’s house. Piper nodded, and Danse turned to approach the doorway.

“But it’s all locked up, we couldn’t -”

Piper stopped when Danse’s boot hit the door, and the locks might have held but the worn wood around them did not.  
The whole frame practically burst into splinters and the door slammed on the floor with an astounding crash.  
Danse vanished in when the sound was still reverberating in Piper’s teeth.

“Well, that’s one way to deal with it,” she muttered, and the corner of her mouth twitched. She couldn’t wait to tell the others about _this_.

 

***


	4. Danse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What they wanted all along.

***

 

Nate was sitting on the floor in the hallway, still wearing the same clothes from the night before, torn and filthy and caked with dried blood. The bandage on his arm was soaked through with red and sickly yellow.

Seeing him there angered Danse for some reason, even more than Curie’s harsh words had. Not that he had understood all that much, but the gist of the angry flood of gibberish seemed to be that he was to blame of Nate’s current state.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Nate didn’t answer. His eyes, usually full of warmth, or humor, or sympathy, or determination - some emotion -, were empty.

Danse quickly quenched the dread that tried to crawl into his chest.  
He had sometimes seen this in soldiers before, and usually preceding death, because soldiers with that look? They had no longer cared about staying alive.

Well, they weren’t in the field now and he would handle this, he would drag Nate out of it and back to him. Somehow.

“Fine.” Danse stepped over him to continue to the bedroom, returned a moment later with a backpack filled with some necessities, and crouched in front of the other soldier.

“With or without your help, I’m going to get you cleaned up, I’m going to treat the fuck out of those rotting wounds, and I’m going to feed you. By force, if I have to. Do not for one moment think I wouldn’t, because you’d be dead wrong.”

He grabbed Nate from under his arms and forced him up, grunting at the weight.  
As soon as Danse loosened his grip to adjust their position, Nate swayed, almost fell, and Danse pinned him against the wall to hold him steady. He manhandled his way under Nate’s arm, circling his arm around Nate’s back to hold him firmly against him.

“You’re being an idiot. See what happens when you’re being an idiot?”  
Something close to anger flickered in Nate’s eyes, and Danse smiled grimly.  
“Like I said, with or without your help.”

 

***

 

Nate was too wobbly to walk on his own, but he didn’t voluntarily lean on the former Paladin, either, so the short walk to the showers was something of a struggle. Danse made him down a can of water by threatening to get a baby bottle in front of the whole settlement, unless he drank it himself. Nate’s eyes flashed again, but Danse didn’t care one bit. Anger was so much better than apathy. Anger and hate he could handle - the complete unresponsiveness he’d seen first was much more alarming.

 

***

 

Nate’s black hair was dripping after the shower, hanging over his eyes. It should have been a roguish look, but instead it made him look young, and somehow vulnerable. He was sitting on a long bench by the lockers in the shower building, now wearing clean jeans, his upper body still bare. Danse was sitting astride on the same bench, holding Nate’s wounded arm.

The ragged slashes looked bad, and now, after a day of festering, smelled even worse. Danse knew that by now there would be scars, no matter what anyone did, but he’d also seen much worse. These were still easily treatable. As Curie’s healthpacks worked their magic and the flesh was slowly knitting back together, Danse gently cleaned away the yellow tissue and pus, bit by bit. Nate looked away the whole time. Allowing the treatment, but not participating. Still not reacting.

Danse was letting anger bubble to the surface and show on his face, just to cover his fear.  
How would he snap Nate out of this, whatever this was? Physical injuries were one thing, but this, this was something else. Danse had no training for this.

 

***

 

They returned to the house, and found the door temporarily fixed, all the splinters cleaned away. Some lamps and candles were lit inside, and there was easy food, plenty of water, juice, even beer waiting on the counter.  
Codsworth. That blessed angel of a butler.

 

***

 

Nate was finally eating, slowly and reluctantly. Danse watched him like a hawk, leaning on the countertop, drumming it restlessly with his fingers.

“Do you mind?”

The words were so quiet Danse wasn’t even sure he had really heard them, or if he’d heard them correctly, but he saw an opening and jumped at it.

“Excuse me? Oh, I’m sorry, does this annoy you?” And he kept doing it.

Nate lifted a forkful of food halfway to his mouth and paused.  
Danse drummed louder, and as irregularly as he could manage.

The fork clattered on the plate, the barstool toppled on the floor, and Danse was suddenly nose to nose with Nate, half expecting to be punched.  
But as soon as the fury had appeared, it began to vanish, and Nate stepped back again.

“No!” Danse grabbed Nate and pushed him against the counter, trapping him with his body. Shaking him by the arms. “You _do not_ get to turn away this time. Talk to me! Do you have any idea how many people are worried about you out there -”

“You’re one to talk,” Nate interrupted, anger and something else flashing in his eyes.

Finally. Danse pressed on.  
“ _I’m_ one to talk? Don’t be ridiculous, I haven’t locked myself in my house alone and injured, gone untreated for -”

“No, you just tried to get yourself killed in a more efficient way.”

That caught Danse completely offguard, and a baffled _“what?”_ was the best response he could come up with.

Nate bared his teeth. “Don’t give me that. You left the perimeter, unarmed! You never leave without a weapon, it’s one of _your own rules_ , for fuck’s sake, but you left anyway. You left right after I - right after…” He swallowed. “Just admit it, you ran. From me.”

“I… what?” Danse was still holding Nate by the arms, searching his eyes though Nate averted his gaze now. Something was there, definitely, but Danse couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

“Do you really want me to spell it out for you? I obviously scared the crap out of you and you ran, and I - I thought you died! That I lost you, and that it was my own fault. Don’t you understand? I saw you on the ground and you... weren’t moving. I knew you had no gun, and there was a glowing one right next to you! I thought -”  
Nate was nearly yelling, and he never so much as raised his voice. He swallowed again, and the anger in his eyes was vanishing, revealing that something Danse hadn’t been able to identify at first. It was shame. Nate was mortified.  
“Look, I get it now. I got the wrong impression and I - I got carried away. I shouldn’t have pushed like that. I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back, or wish you would have just told me, but I got the message now. I thought I lost you, and I... I’ll stop. I’ll stop, I promise.”

Danse was finally catching on.  
“No, no. I didn’t run. I mean, I can see it looked like I did, but I didn’t do it to… You didn’t scare me! Well, you kinda did, but… I mean, no! That’s not it. Shit, the Red Rocket seemed like such a brilliant idea last night.”  
He realized he was babbling and not making much sense. He had never been any good in things like this, but he had to think of something, fast.  
“I didn’t run from you. I was intoxicated and I needed a moment, I just needed a moment to sober up, I _wanted_ to sober up before we - because I knew this was it and I didn’t want to be... oh for fuck’s sake.”

Only one thing came to mind. One thing that had been in his head constantly over the past weeks, and it didn’t require words to explain where he stood.

So Danse kissed Nate.

They were only inches apart and he was already holding on to Nate, so he simply leaned lightly forward and captured Nate’s mouth with his.  
They both forgot to breathe. Time stood still.  
Nate’s lips were as full as his, felt firm and soft at the same time, and so warm, and it was everything he had dared to imagine and much more.  
This time it was real, and Danse’s chest suddenly felt tight. He lifted his head, slowly opening his eyes.

“Am I making myself clear?” He asked, his voice even deeper than usual.

Nate blinked. “I... I’m getting that maybe you didn’t run -”

  
“Let me restate it,” Danse interrupted and their mouths met again, longer this time, definitely not as gently, and they came out of it flushed and just a bit dazed.

“See? This. You. _Us_. This is why I wanted to be sober,” Danse managed, and his hold on Nate’s arms was damn near bruising as he was willing the other man to understand. “This is what I wanted all along, too.”

Nate was still not convinced he wasn’t hallucinating. “Maybe… maybe repeat it one more time, just to be sure -,” and he was promptly cut off. This kiss was no longer tentative, but more serious, more urgent. Just more.

Danse’s grip turned into a caress, his hands sliding down Nate’s arms, around his back.  
Nate was on the verge of _mewling_ into the kiss but opened his mouth to deepen it instead, and Danse surprised him by seizing the opportunity immediately, tilting his head to delve in. Nate felt the first brush of his tongue all through his body, and it made them both groan deep in their throats.

This was really happening.  
Danse’s stubble was longer than his and the contrast between the the sharp scraping and the softness of lips and tongue felt strange but so damn good. He pulled the other soldier closer just to feel more of it, burying his hand in Danse’s thick hair while their bodies pressed together. This had been a long time coming. Nate hadn’t touched anybody like this - hadn’t been touched like this - in such a long time.  
And now this was really happening.

Nate’s body had reacted as soon as he had felt Danse’s mouth on his and he was so hard already, his jeans uncomfortably tight. He was trying to be inconspicuous about it, but then Danse saved him by pushing his hips deliberately against his, and he was just as hard and jesus, feeling his thick length through their clothes made intense heat coil in Nate’s stomach and he -

A tiny, muffled sound alerted him that something was amiss.  
The sound definitely came from outside.  
No. No no no. They wouldn’t. Would they?  
Oh, but they would.  
Goddamnit.

 

*** ~~~ ***

 

They had seen the two soldiers returning from the showers.  
The Vault Dweller had looked surprisingly good, if somewhat pale. It had been quiet for a while now, and they couldn’t not investigate. Their much loved leader’s well-being - and the mental health of all of them - was at stake, after all.

The opportunity of seeing two beefcakes in action played no part in this. Of course not. They weren’t just a bunch of regular pervs. Absolutely not.

“Ssh, shut up now. We need to get to those windows, but they’ll hear us if you won’t quit yapping!” Cait hissed furiously.

  
“We shouldn’t be doing this in the first place,” Preston muttered, following the others anyway.

  
“We’re just making sure they’re getting to it, s’all. Feel free to tag along,” Hancock grinned.

Seemed like everyone and their dog was now by Nate’s house, getting ready to spy on Nate and Danse. Well, everyone except Nick, who would probably not have stooped so low and was also currently in Diamond City on a case, and Strong, who just didn’t give a shit what humans were up to behind closed doors.

The bickering had to stop when they reached the living room windows, slithering silently closer, shoving each other out of the way trying to get to the best possible positions.  
Finally they simultaneously and very, very carefully peeked inside.

Danse had Nate pinned against the kitchen counter. Oh.  
Were they... yelling at each other? Yes. Yes they were.  
The muscles in Danse’s arms and back were beautifully outlined - he was holding Nate in place with considerable force. Oh.

They watched the scene unfold with baited breaths, until Danse made the move they had all been waiting for the whole time.

Several tiny gasps were heard outside the windows as they kissed.  
They kissed again, and the audience was living it, fingers raised on lips to muffle the oh’s.  
The third kiss was the charm - Danse tilted his head, wrapped his arms around Nate, and Nate took a hold on Danse’s hair, the other hand dropping down on the small of Danse’s back, bunching the shirt in his fist.

“Holy fucking shit,” Hancock swore under his breath.  
Preston fled the scene and Piper followed, cheeks flaming, but the rest were rooted to the spot. This should be very, very good.

 

*** ~~~ ***

 

Nate tore his mouth away from Danse’s, a half-formed growl stuck in his throat. They were both breathing hard, mouths just shy of touching again. Nate’s hand stayed buried in Danse’s coarse hair.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” Danse apologized breathily, but Nate shook his head no, want so evident in his eyes Danse’s cock twitched.

“Not even remotely enough, but I don’t think we need the audience.”

That made Danse snap half out of his haze.  
“Do you mean - are those nosy… those little…”

“Right outside those windows, I think. I really would like to _not_ let you go because _fuck_ how I want this,” Nate groaned, his lips skimming Danse’s as he spoke, “but we need to deal with a pest problem first.”

“Let’s just kill them. You point, I’ll shoot,” Danse murmured, while his hand slipped under Nate’s shirt, spreading his fingers on the small of his back to pull the Vault Dweller flush against him once more, to show he was just as reluctant to let go, just as eager to continue. Just as impatient. They were practically panting against each other’s mouths.

“Sounds good to me.”

The two turned to look at the windows.  
Several pairs of eyes blinked back at them.  
Dealing with them turned out to be surprisingly easy.  
Murderous stares - and Danse pointedly grasping for his laser rifle on the counter - were enough to cause the spying little pricks to scatter and hide.

Danse turned back to the man he still had firmly pinned against the kitchen counter. The heat in Danse’s golden eyes made Nate’s stomach do another slow roll.  
“Now where were we?”

“I think right about here,” and their mouths crashed back together.

Danse was pulling and Nate was pushing as they started making their way to the bedroom, bumping against furniture and plants and walls on the way and so wrapped up in each other they hardly even noticed, nor cared.

 

***

 

Danse’s back slammed against the bedroom door as soon as it closed, Nate’s hands on him impatient and eager and his mouth hot, devouring rather than just kissing. Biting Danse’s lip Nate made his hips jerk and their erections ground together, and he growled in frustration when Danse’s shirt didn’t immediately obey and fall on the floor as soon as he tugged at it.

“Here, let me -,” Danse laughed breathily, grabbed the neck of the tee and shrugged it off. Then he grabbed the hem of Nate’s, in two seconds it joined his on the floor and next it was Nate’s back against the door and Danse pressing against him, lips and teeth moving on to his neck, biting, licking and kissing his way to the vault dweller’s chest and down across his abdomen.

“Danse,” Nate breathed as the former paladin kneeled in front of him, still mouthing his way down, opening Nate’s jeans and yanking them down with his underwear.

  
“Busy here, can’t talk now,” he said and took almost Nate’s entire length in his mouth and down his throat in one go.

  
“Fuuuck!” The back of Nate’s head hit the door and he was drowning in the sheer euphoria of it. He had forgotten how absolutely fucking perfect it could feel, he had forgotten the glorious, slippery slide of tongue and the sensation of greedy sucking and the wet heat… how could he forget?

He looked down and his knees nearly buckled at the sight of Danse on his knees, mouth wrapped tight around his shaft, an appreciative hum vibrating in his throat that Nate could feel all the way to his balls. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, he would not last long like this, it had been so long and Danse was just too damn good and jesus _yes please do that again._

His hand sought Danse’s hair again, not to hinder or pull or guide, but simply to hold on to something. He was so very close. His mouth was hanging open, his breath was coming out in desperate pants, and he tried to warn Danse, really he did, but the words kept escaping him and curses kept streaming out.  
Danse grunted, ignored him and just kept his relentless rhythm, continued swallowing him whole, cupping his balls and sucking him in his hot mouth, his tongue doing things on his cock that made Nate nearly cross-eyed.

“I’m - fuck! - I’m going to - ahh - Danse, please, fuck, I’m not - nghh - not gonna last… I’m going to oh my goddamn fucking _jesusohfuck!_ ” And just like that he was coming and Danse was swallowing, he was still shouting and cursing and groaning, and coming down Danse’s throat so forcefully he whited out for a few incredible, blissful moments.

 

***

 

“I had no idea you were so loud,” Danse murmured, grinning against Nate’s cheek between kisses he peppered on his face as he held the vault dweller up against the door.

A sluggish smile spread on Nate’s lips and he looked at Danse, blue eyes sparkling under heavy lids.  
“I don’t remember being so loud, but a couple of centuries can wreak havoc on a man’s memory.”

“Or maybe I’m just that good.” Danse teased, biting and sucking his neck hard enough to leave a mark, and it felt possessive and damn hot.

“Mmh. Even more likely,” Nate hummed against the soft skin under Danse’s ear. “Give me a moment and I’ll have a go. Never tried this before, pretty sure I’d remember that.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” Danse dragged his lips along Nate’s neck and jaw.

“I’ll do you, that’s what I’ll do,” Nate growled, and their mouths all but fused together again as they stumbled on the bed.

 

***

 

“I thought you needed a moment,” Danse wheezed when Nate palmed his aching cock through his jeans and opened the first button with a flick of his deft fingers.

“I did. Now I need something else.”

“Yeah? Like what,” Danse lifted his hips helpfully as Nate dragged the final pieces of clothing down, following them with a trail of open mouthed kisses, and then Danse was as naked as he was.

Nate paused to appreciate the sight - Danse leaning back on his elbows in front of him, flushed and turned on, all hard muscle and heavy cock and so goddamn beautiful. Nate was breathless.

“Like what?” Danse repeated, and Nate’s eyes snapped back up to look into his.

“I need to learn what it takes to make you come,” he answered and leaned in to swallow Danse’s gasp with a searing kiss, before he wrapped his hand firmly around the former paladin’s shaft and continued against his lips, “...and I really, really need to hear what you sound like when you do.”

Danse was staring at him, speechless, pupils so dilated his eyes seemed almost black, and Nate stroked him from tip to root. And again. Moving his hand carefully, savoring every shuddering gasp, every subtle sign on Danse’s face that he was slowly drowning in his pleasure. All because of Nate.

Danse dropped on his back, groaning, and pre-come was leaking on his taut stomach. Nate’s eyes roamed his body, stopping and staying on his hand working Danse, and he felt himself hardening again. Danse’s cock was heavy and long, the pink head wet and glistening, foreskin sliding over it easily. Fuck but he was perfect.

“That’s - I want to taste that,” Nate breathed and gave in to the urge, straddling Danse’s already trembling legs and taking the head in his mouth, the taste somehow familiar and strange and pleasant and heady at the same time, and he wanted more of it. All of it.  
He flattened his tongue along the sensitive underside and stroked languidly while sliding the thick shaft into his mouth, Danse’s throaty wail spurring him on when he pulled back and did it again.

It didn’t take long, not after all that waiting. The cock in his eager mouth was rock hard, throbbing against his tongue, and he felt Danse’s muscles tensing, his whole body revealing how close he was to explode. The long, low sound trickling from his lips was as delightful as it was hot, and then Danse’s hands were weakly urging him to stop.

“Nate, please,” he begged hoarsely, “come here. I want to see you…look at you when I come.”  
And Nate did as he asked, replaced his mouth with his hand and rose to look at the man teetering on the brink of orgasm.

Danse’s eyes were dark, glazed over with lust and pleasure, his breathing shallow. Nate licked his lips.  
“You look so fucking hot right now, all ready to come because of me,” he murmured, hovering over Danse’s mouth, making him twitch in his grip.  
“Just seeing you like this makes me hard again.”

That clearly had an effect on Danse, he was groaning continuously now, never breaking eye contact, his grip on the sheets and Nate’s arm wanton, helpless.  
Nate brushed his lips lightly on Danse’s, felt them tremble, and was drunk on the sounds and reactions he was eliciting from the man merely with his words and hands.

He closed his fist more firmly around Danse’s cock, thumb stroking the slippery head with every smooth, determined pull. He didn’t mean to say all of it out loud but he couldn’t stop himself, and every breathless word was true.

“Seeing you like this makes me so hard, makes me want to come. In your hands, in your mouth, in your ass, with you pushing inside me, I don’t care, as long as it’s you, Danse. I love you. I love you.”  
And with that, Danse spilled himself between them, in thick, hot spurts, all over Nate’s hand and his own stomach.

 

***

 

Danse woke up with a start, not knowing where he was.

He opened his eyes and saw a painting of a mountain. The painting was on a wall that sure wasn’t in his quarters.  
He tensed, stared at it and couldn’t make sense of anything, until something moved against him.

His arm was draped on something - no, someone - solid and warm, and he dropped his eyes to find - Nate.  
Danse’s stomach did a little flip.  
Nate.

Nate’s head was resting on his bicep, nose buried in the skin close to his collarbone.  
Every inch of their bodies was pressed together, their legs tangled, the vault dweller’s arm wrapped around Danse’s waist, and now he was tightening it soothingly, a sleepy hum leaving him.

“Mmh...you okay?” Nate’s voice was thick with sleep and muffled by the kiss he was placing on Danse’s skin as he spoke.

Danse relaxed, a slow smile spreading on his face as he tightened his hold on the man in his arms, burying his face in his hair and breathing in the scent.  
“I am now,” Danse murmured.

Nate tilted his head up to look at him, and the light dancing in the cerulean eyes made Danse’s heart stutter.  
He remembered Nate’s words from the night before, and warmth flooded him, filled his chest and pooled in his stomach - and he felt hope.  
All it took was a simple moment like this, just them together, and the world was that much brighter. He could see the colors.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, elated, pausing to taste the words that were unfamiliar and completely true, but barely adequate.

He cupped Nate’s head and looked in his eyes, and then he tried again, just because he could.  
“I love you.” There. Better already. And he laid his mouth on Nate’s smiling lips in a soft, lingering kiss, just because he finally, finally could.

 

***


End file.
